


Wildest Dreams

by starfishing



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-06
Updated: 2007-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishing/pseuds/starfishing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he hears the quiet gasps from the shower stall at the end, sex doesn't even cross his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildest Dreams

When he hears the quiet gasps from the shower stall at the end, sex doesn't even cross his mind. Maybe it's just that his priorities are rearranged; he knows Yukimura's the only one still there, and he worries, despite Yukimura and despite himself.

He pulls the curtain aside just as he's saying 'Yukimura,' and the name dies on his lips.

Yukimura's there, and perfectly fine — better than fine, fucking fantastic; so fine that Sanada can't tear his eyes away — shoulder blades back against the wall of the stall, slim hips jutting not quite parallel to the opposite wall, head thrown back and fingers wrapped around his cock. Water drips down his chest and stomach, rushing over the apex of every well-defined muscle, and Sanada will never imagine him in a dress again, because Yukimura is nothing but _man_ , sleek and powerful and staring at him, eyes alight and smouldering, the way they do on the court.

More calm than he has any right to be with his face flushed and cock in hand, Yukimura says his name, and it shoots straight through Sanada to his groin, his cheeks heating up in time with his erection.

'Come here.' Maybe it's the terminology, or maybe it's just the husky edge to his voice, but Sanada's harder than glass. He steps forward unhesitatingly; this is one too many locker-room fantasies come true to refuse.

Even as long as he's been sexualizing Yukimura in his mind, Sanada is altogether unprepared for the rough hands, the leg that Yukimura braces against one wall, trapping Sanada in, as if escaping is even on his radar. He moans embarrassingly when Yukimura grips his erection through the towel, and gasps when the towel is snatched away; tossed aside.

The shower water is cold compared to their skin, red-hot on white-hot, sliding together. Sanada's forearms rest on either side of Yukimura's head, their faces so close together they could kiss, but Sanada's head is turned and he doesn't dare. Yukimura pulls him closer by the hips; their hard-ons brush between them and Sanada catches his breath, swallowing.

Yukimura laughs, unexpected and scornful, but melodious. Sanada recognizes the tone when he says, 'Touch me, Gen'ichirou. I don't have to help you with _everything_ , do I?' and he will never be able to hear Yukimura tease him about his hat again without getting hard, he's sure.

His body responds to the challenge while his mind is still bemoaning the consequences; he takes both their cocks in his hand and begins to stroke, slow and strong, and Yukimura gasps, wraps powerful arms around him and whispers 'yes' against his lips. Sanada kisses him, and Yukimura groans, low in his throat. The kiss is deep, urgent, and Yukimura is a svelte machine in his arms, arching, rocking, thrusting into his grip. When their lips part, they're panting, Sanada's forehead on Yukimura's shoulder and Yukimura's fingers tangled clamorously in his hair, tugging and twisting.

Yukimura says, 'It was never this good when I imagined it,' and a shiver runs through him then, catching on Sanada's shoulders and running down his back. Yukimura's leg leaves the other wall, wrapping around Sanada's waist, and he thrusts up into his hand harder, faster, rhythm broken. 'God, yes, Gen'ichirou, _fuck_ ,' and suddenly Sanada grasps the appeal of that word.

His cock throbs and he can't even breathe as the sudden sharp ascent into orgasm begins, rushed by Yukimura's bucking hips and feverish murmurs — 'I'm gonna come, Gen'ichirou, fuck, don't stop, please, don't stop, _yes_ right there god yes' — and then the dropoff; Sanada's voice breaks over a moan as he feels Yukimura's cock jerk against his, and 'fuck yes please' descends into incoherent keening cries.

The dizziness subsides, leaving Sanada barely standing and Yukimura's long limbs still wrapped all around him like a spider around a fly, face buried in his neck. The water _is_ cold now, Sanada realizes faintly, but Yukimura is warm and his pulse is still hot in every extremity of his body. He sinks to the floor that way, pulling Yukimura closer, and receives an insistent kiss for the small display of tenderness.

There are a million questions on the tip of Sanada's tongue — 'when he'd _imagined_ it?' What does this mean for them? Can they stay this way? — but Yukimura's turning the water off and pressing closer, raining kisses on Sanada's shoulder like a ridiculous girl, and Sanada would rather not stop him.


End file.
